


Continued Research

by mitsukai613



Series: Adversary [2]
Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26035243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: Harry and Nathan have settled into a tenuous normal, when everything gets turned upside down again.
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Nathan "Cujo" Hendricks
Series: Adversary [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682125
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Continued Research

If I've learned one thing about magic, it's that it's frustrating. Deeply, purely, endlessly frustrating. Like when you're playing pretend as a kid, and that one kid is always like, "Actually, I have a bulletproof shield, so the bullets you just shot at me just bounce off me and hit you instead!" Magic is that "actually" brought to goddamn life, all grown up, and nothing proved that like Harry Dresden, the shithead wizard currently shaking bullet casings out of his coat and onto my carpet. 

"Again, Dresden?" I asked, leaning back on my couch, and he grinned at me, eyes bright and glowing with adrenaline. 

"What can I say, Cujo? I make friends everywhere I go." He sprawled beside me on the couch, all sharp angles just barely starting to go soft. I threw an arm over his shoulder, pulled him close. It felt easy, almost, but not quite. There was a lingering weirdness to this, to being not only friends with but also dating the guy I'd once seen as not much more than a particularly dangerous nuisance.

But I was working on it, at least, the both of us were. It had been about two months since the dungeon incident, and we'd... adjusted, I guess, or at least we'd found a routine. 

He'd call me when he was free, or I'd call him, and we'd get dinner, hit a bar, catch a drive in movie, even just go walking, and then I'd bring him back to one of my apartments, carefully making sure no one saw me do it. That, I guess, was the main benefit to being the main guy assigned to tailing Dresden, it made it easy to be where he was and make sure no one else was there with me. 

But of course sometimes, like tonight, he'd run off and do something probably stupid and definitely dangerous, and then turn up on my doorstep smelling like a wildfire. This time, at least, he'd brought me a Snickers, so I guessed I could forgive him.

He'd closed his eyes and relaxed into me. That was the trick with Dresden, give him the comfort so he didn't have to ask for it. 

"Long night?" I asked. He toed his ratty sneakers off, folded his legs up onto the couch, pushed further against me and nestled his head into the crook of my neck. It looked uncomfortable, but I was coming to understand that Harry was basically a cat and therefore chose the most awkward looking positions to love. 

"Just the usual, some minor talent tried to swing his dick around, and I had to come clean up the mess. Kid even managed to get the vanilla police involved. Can't wait to hear what the unshootable slime monster turns into in their reports." Ah, slime monster. That accounted for the faintly sticky film on his coat, at least; I'd been too afraid to ask. 

"Sounds about right. I finally got around to getting Red Dead 2, you wanna watch me play?" We'd discovered, after a little trial and error, that as long as he didn't touch the controller, and as long as my PS4 was positioned carefully on a high shelf above my TV and connected with extra long cords, and as long as we didn't play for too long, that nothing blew up when I used it around him. Beyond the frames dropping periodically, and a few game breaking bugs, of course. Still, that and the PS4s lost in the line of duty were worth it to see the intent, astounded way he watched modern games. 

"Sure, I always wanted to pretend you were a devilishly clever and handsome cowboy, Cujo. Just don't move around too much, I'm comfy." I snorted, and fired the console up. It made a vaguely concerning humming noise for just a moment, but started fine; maybe tomorrow I'd move the shelf up another foot or two. 

"You're the one who dresses like a fuckin cowboy, all you need is the hat. The NES is getting here tomorrow, by the way. I'd bet we can get that working long enough to watch you blow at Mario." I felt him smile against my neck. 

"I don't blow at anything, Nate, my skills are legendary! I'll be the ultimate Mario master." He shifted a little, getting a better view as the opening cinematic started. It was a good night, all things considered, although he was absurdly into the game and it'd probably be months before he stopped quoting it and doing finger guns. No amount of assurance as to how lame he was could dissuade him, ever. 

He slept next to me, that night, close and warm, toes just barely dangling off the end of my bed. Someone more sentimental than me might have called it perfect. Maybe I would too. It was, at least, the last peaceful night we had in a while.

* * *

The next morning, I found him shirtless in the apartment's tiny kitchen, vigorously shaking a bottle of instant pancake mix. I'd started buying it when Harry started staying over, to sate what I'd rapidly found was an insatiable need for pancakes.

I could also smell the shitty cheap coffee he always drank, some offbrand thing with peanutbutter flavoring in it, sitting in a red mug he'd scrawled his name on in Sharpie a couple weeks before. Another mug that smelled much better sat beside it, a couple ice cubes dropped in it. He'd finally gotten bored of mocking me for not being able to drink hot coffee, I guessed. I smiled, probably like a fucking dweeb, because he was definitely smiling like one. 

"You're a good housewife, Dresden," I said, grabbing my mug and taking my chair at the tiny dining table my mom had insisted I buy when I first left home. There was already a plate with eggs, sausage, and bacon sitting on the middle of the table, along with syrup, butter, jam, and toast. He snorted.

"Who says any of this is for you, Cujo? Figured you should be watching your figure, so I just made you your weird cold alien coffee." Nevermind on the bored thing, I really should've known better.

"I will eat all of this before you finish making your dessert, Harry." He stared at me, right in the eye, daring me for just a minute. Until he saw me reaching for it.

"Fine, fine, I'll share! Gimme like five minutes, I'm still not used to cooking on an electric stove." I hummed, sipped my coffee, stretched in my chair. I was just peaceful enough that the dropping of the other shoe shouldn't have surprised me, but it still did. 

My work cell went off on the coffee table; it was the "serious shit" ringer that only went off when John was calling on his own work phone, high and shrill and impossible to ignore. Harry went tense in the kitchen. He'd heard that ringer just once before, early in the relationship. I'd had to leave him alone in the apartment, come back smelling like blood and lead. He hadn't asked where I'd been and I hadn't said. I think both of us knew that if it was said aloud, he couldn't ignore it enough to stay. I could see in his face he didn't want me to answer it just as much as I knew I couldn't ignore it. I stood and I answered.

"It's early, John," I answered, and he didn't chuckle like he would've any other time. 

"I'm aware, Nathan. Apologies for disturbing you but I felt you'd want to know about this, and even if you don't, I need you here for it." He sounded cold, all traces of our friendship scrubbed clean from his voice.

"What's wrong?" 

"Come to my office. You know the one. I'd prefer not speaking on the phone." Bad, then, or worse than usual. Something other than the police, something that needed more than high security to stop it from listening. 

"Shit. I'll be there soon." He hung up. Very, very bad then. Harry dropped his finished pancakes on the table, came over, didn't touch me. 

"Something you gotta handle?" He sounded cool, a little distant. I nodded. 

"Yeah. Sounds like your side of the tracks, though, so I'm gonna guess you're going to end up involved one way or another." He relaxed a little, at that. Felt weird, knowing that somehow something that dangerous was preferable. He hugged me, pecked my lips lightly, pulled away fast, like he was embarrassed. 

"Lemme pack you breakfast real quick. Be careful. I'll probably head out and look into anything being up. Call me when you're free, we'll trade." I smiled, nodded, squeezed his hip. 

"Yeah. Be quick about it, wifey, the boss didn't sound patient." He laughed, and I felt the tension blessedly crack. 

"I'm gonna choke you with it if you don't shut up, Cujo." He fake slapped me, wriggled out of my grip, and stuffed a pile of breakfast into a Tupperware container while I poured my coffee into a thermos. I got dressed as fast as I could, hid the food in a lunchbox, and left. Funny thing was, part of me hoped it was bad; I'd have been mad at John for interrupting the morning if it wasn't.


End file.
